


A 1.21 Gigawatt-Worthy Event

by Bette2014



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Family Bonding, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Halloween Challenge, I swear it's still October 31st here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 02:06:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16484024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bette2014/pseuds/Bette2014
Summary: When the city hosts a "Back to the Future" marathon at one of the theaters, Peter knows he has to go. Fortunately, he's managed to convince a certain fellow superhero/mentor to tag along, no matter (supposed) protests.





	A 1.21 Gigawatt-Worthy Event

**Author's Note:**

> *This isn't actually mine* 
> 
> I'm posting on behalf of a friend (Lindsey), who has yet to open an AO3 account and hasn't received her invitation yet. But she wanted this in by Halloween [still 11PM on my end, at least], so here we are. I hope she'll open her own account soon, so that she can upload plenty more, but for now, I'm honored to help share any IronDad material ^_^
> 
> Oh, and this is supposed to be post-IW-Happy-Ending, lol. Only fluff here, so now Tony and Peter have even more of an excuse to bond to their hearts' content.

“Mr. Stark.” He tries to leave it at that, drumming an aimless beat against his upraised knees. “C’mon, we’re gonna be late.” And no, he is not whining.

A put-upon sigh can be heard from beyond the partially closed walk-in closet.

“You do not whine at me, kid. Not about this. Not after you hassled me about this for weeks – ”

“One weekend.” Peter knows to keep his interjections short, and murmured.

“ – and pulled out all stops. I mean, really, kid… Manipulation?”

“I said ‘please’.” The teen couldn’t help but sound confused. 

“And now I’m about to risk exposing, slash, humiliating myself, something I’ve vowed to avoid.” A short pause and then a self-imposed interjection made out of rising maturity, “At least now that I’m sober, finished upending certain branches of the government, and am finally committed to semi-retirement. However!” This last word gains volume as it precedes Tony Stark entering the room and donning a raised finger.

Correction: he’s donning a raised finger **and** a full-decked Dr. Emmett Brown costume, equipped even with a wig of wild, white hair. 

Peter purses his lips, hoping his practice at a better poker face is showing. 

“This counts as a conjoined Christmas present and birthday present, understand?” The finger is now being pointed at the teenager, its usual aura of authority somewhat dampened by the polychromatic 80’s flair extending from the wrist to the elbow. After the elbow, the material becomes a slick yellow; very appropriate for rain, at least. However, Peter is wise enough not to helpfully mention this.

Instead, eager nodding answers the rhetorical question.

A raised eyebrow matches Tony’s suspicious tone. “You want to laugh, don’t you?”

“What? No.” But in the middle of his drawled out use of ‘no,’ Peter looks down and a warble escapes him.

“Excuse me, was that a giggle?” With crossed arms now, Tony approaches the cross-legged figure sitting on top – as in most of the lithe weight is on the headrest – of his Herman Miller chair. 

“It was a nervous chuckle,” Peter says with a shrug. His innocent gaze turns confused when he feels Tony grip his forearms. “I feel like you’re interrogating me… Mr. Stark?” The grip smoothly transfers him so that he’s sliding back until he’s cozily situated on the seat, legs hanging over an armrest while his head’s cushioned against the other. 

“There. State-of-the-art ergonomic chair and you sit on it like you’re a cat.”

Except Peter’s still no sitting straight up in it, more ensconced than anything. Oh well, still a better adjustment. And Tony’s getting a weird urge to throw a blanket over him and tuck the corners in.  
He settles for patting a knee. “Sit tight for a sec. I just have to find the right shades to throw this look together and hopefully remind myself I’m still cool.”

“Doc only wears visors,” Peter protests softly. “And Mr. Stark, we have to go.” At this, he dares to be a little more insistent.

“We can stand to be a little creative with 21st century adaptations. Besides,” Tony finally decides to let Peter in on his plans, if only to help soothe the fanboy’s need for punctuality. “We can skip the line, so no worries there.”

“Huh?” Turns out Peter can sit up straight against proper upholstery. “Mr. Stark, I thought you wanted to lay low, do this like the average New Yorker…?”

_‘And oh god, there were The Eyes,’_ Tony thinks with a guilty grimace.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that, Underoos. I kept my word: no flaunting of the Stark name. I’m just a regular, ol’ Back to the Future attendee tonight.”

“Then, how –?”

“I sent Happy to make the line for us; he’s due in for an update any minute.”

“But how long has he been waiting there?” Peter practically gasps.

The billionaire retreats to a corner where a panel draws back, exposing dozens of different sunglasses. He tests some out as he keeps conversing.

“It’s OK, he has his phone and money for a hot dog.”

“I still feel bad. Will he be watching with us too, at least?”

“Him? Nah. But as soon as we get there, he’s relieved of duty and he’ll be taking the company jet to visit some islands for a week.”

“Oh, Ok. Then I can’t feel too bad for him, huh?” Peter was back to sounding chipper. The older man spares a small, genuine smile his way in response.

“Yeah, I’d say he can’t complain, but I’m still expecting a lot of capitalized letters and angry emoticons.”

Just as Tony finds a pair of sunglasses that seems to convince him of a good compromise between indulgence and dignity, his sleek phone buzzes.

Glimpsing the text, the man lets out an unimpressed ‘hmph’ at what is surely a threat of some kind.

“Classic Happy. He keeps forgetting that I know he loves me.”

With a swipe, the phone’s glare becomes brighter, indicating the presence of a photo. Tony lets out a startled laugh.

“C’mere, kid. You gotta look at this.” 

Peter is there within a second, pressing close enough to view the screen alongside his mentor.

Happy is in the middle of a throng of movie-goers, obviously among those closest to the entrance given the high degree of fanaticism on the spectrum of theme-based apparel. 

“Good news, kid, is that you can laugh now.”

Tony zooms in on his long-time friend, unable to avoid a screenful of several others crowding the pic, and apparently, Happy’s personal space.

And surely, as soon as Peter zeroes in on a particular person looking at Happy in distaste, as if insulted by his bland appearance, the teen can’t help himself. His infectious laughter soon has Tony going. Both superheroes uproariously express their glee at the plain misery written all over the man’s face.

“I swear,” Tony sighs, rubbing at his face as if tired by the burst of mirth. “The guy may not know it, but I think he missed his mark as a comedian.” 

Peter hurriedly gets his jacket and hat as soon as Tony nears the door, the younger of the two looking ready to race to the elevator.

“Hey, but Happy’s always worked for you, right? Did he start out as your chauffer?”

“Oh, God, I’m gonna tell him you said that.” Tony gives the teen a smirk as they make their way down the hall. Tony strolls while Peter keeps skipping sideways, facing Tony at an angle. The older man could swear he kept a careful eye on the kid’s sugar intake earlier that afternoon… 

 

Once in the elevator, Peter uses the reflective surfaces to position his hat just right. Just as he removes his hands and looks down to pick at a small mustard stain, his hat is gone.

Unwillingly, he recalls Flash at school one time, swiping his hat and letting it fall with a clatter to the ground, only to try to trip him up as he bent to retrieve it.

Except this time, the tug is gentle and as soon as Peter turns to complain, Tony has resettled the item onto messy hair in a sideways manner.

“There,” Tony states proudly, going so far as to use his steadying hand atop the hat to further ruffle the curls beneath. “See, totally 80’s.”

“But the character uses it this way.” Peter rights the baseball cap once more.

“Hey, remember I was actually around in that decade? You can even wear it like this.” The deft hands make a brisk swivel movement, directing the bill face backwards, and even help to tug curls free to hang out from above the hat’s adjuster.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter half-protests, giggling a little at all the fuss.

“See, now you look _rad_. That meant ‘cool’ way back then.” 

With his mentor’s secure grip on both shoulders, Peter is turned to face the elevator walls again. He’s unable to hide a full-blown grin once he considers the pair of them. His idol indeed looks funny with the bizarre wig, but the usually teasing smirk turns fond for a second over his shoulder, prompting Peter to look bashful in return. 

“Ok,” Peter concedes as the elevators door open. “I can leave it like this even though Marty Junior has it another way.”

“Marty who?” Tossing a companionable arm around the kid’s shoulders, Tony leads them to the front door where a moderately humble Audi awaits.

“Mr. Stark, you’re not fooling me. I know you love the franchise as much as I do.”

“All I heard was ‘Junior.’ You officially gave me permission to call you Junior for the rest of the evening.”

“No, you have enough nicknames for me already!”

“You can call me Doc, I call you Junior. Works for me. Maybe ‘Doc’ can be that stepping stone between ‘Mr. Stark’ and ‘Tony’ that we seem to be missing.”

“How does that even –?”

The car doors open to the click of Tony’s wristwatch, sliding up in a manner that perfectly aligns with the day’s overall purpose.

“Whoa, did you have that installed just for tonight? So it’d go with the movies? Oh, what if we actually saw a DeLorean at the event?” 

But Tony was already ducking inside, not before nudging his protégé along. 

“Kid, c’mon, we’re gonna be late.”


End file.
